The sunset floats over the distant shore, illuminating the Long Pavilion with its fading light.
The fiery clouds come from the north.
The farmer squints his eyes, puts down the hoe, turns his back to the yellow earth, and faces the sky, grabbing the towel around his neck to wipe the sweat from his forehead, watching the White Jade Palace whistle away, galloping southward.
The evening sun disappears without a trace, but the daylight remains unaltered.
The earth continues to emit its dry white light, the brown soil baked into a pale yellow white, a gust of wind blows through, and clumps of earth roll down the hillside, kicking up wisps of pale yellow dust.
Last year it was Marquis Xingyi.
This year it's the King of Jiang Huai!
